


Bonfire

by barrisscoffees



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barrisscoffees/pseuds/barrisscoffees
Summary: If it was true... if Anakin really had killed the younglings, Padmé would do anything to protect her own child.





	Bonfire

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Star Wars Femslash Week Day Six! 
> 
> We're almost done :')

The entire flight over, one thought consumed Padmé: how she was going to cloud her intentions from Anakin. He could always tell when something was wrong, could always feel her anger and frustration, so in what world would he not notice the knife in her sleeve, not notice the way the Force would condense so darkly around her. She tried to clear her mind, tried to think of anything else, but there was really no way to be sure.

But as soon as the door opened into a ramp and she saw Anakin there, pacing, robes disheveled, she was slammed by a torrent of terror and confusion and grief that overwhelmed any other thought. For a moment she was frozen in place, but seized by a paroxysm of preemptive guilt, she launched herself down the stairs into Anakin’s waiting embrace

“Oh Ani.” She cried into his chest, “Obi-wan said to most horrible things. Tell me it isn’t true, tell me you didn't kill all those children?” Ani stilled in her arms and Padmé’s head began to spin.

“I had to, Padmé.” She pulled away to search his eyes, “I _had_ to - to protect you, to protect our _baby_. Padmé, I’m stronger now.” Nothing he had said beyond his admission of guilt could change Padmé’s mind now. She pressed her face into his chest for the last time.

“ _Please_ Ani, come away with me. That’s all that matters.” Anakin caressed her hair.

“Padmé, you know I can’t do-” Before he could finish the sentence, the dagger was in his buried in his back. He choked on his own breath, sputtering in confusion; Padmé’s knees buckled under the sudden weight, and she sank to her knees. Anakin’s hands waved for his lightsaber in stunned horror, but Padmé easily pushed his hands away. His head in her lap, she stroked his hair. Anakin swatted at her hands, but Padmé kept his head firmly in her lap until his thrashing subsided into sobs.

It wasn’t until Anakin’s eyes turned glassy and his trembling hands stilled that Obi-Wan exited her ship. He fell to his knees next to Anakin, begging him to come back, apologizing for failing him. Like a child, Obi-Wan pulled at Anakin’s sleeve ( _Please, my brother_ ). Unlike Obi-Wan, Padmé thought she stopped feeling for him awhile ago. How else could she sit here, soaking in his blood, not a tear shed? Was she a monster?

Abruptly, Padmé jumped to her feet and made her way back to the ship, leaving Obi-Wan alone to mourn his brother.

////

The blood hadn’t even fully dried on Padmé’s clothes when she decided no, she wasn’t a monster: Anakin had settled in her skin like a disease. If not this, nothing would set her free. He would not allow it; he murdered _children_ and Padmé would never let anyone like that near hers. This child was her first priority now.

////

It seemed like only moments later that Ahsoka arrived, mysteriously enough, with Padmé’s old handmaiden trailing behind her. Ahsoka threw herself into Padmé’s arms, and she squeezed the girl who had been almost a daughter tightly as she could.

“I’m so confused.” Ahsoka whispered in her ear, “The Jedi - I felt… they’re all dead.” Padmé could feel the taller girl shaking, quivering, raw terror pumping in her veins. Ahsoka pulled back, her hands still clasping Padmé’s forearms and Padmé returning the favor. “But Skyguy. I know what I felt, Padmé. I need to know who… what-” She finally registered the blood still coating Padmé’s clothes, the blood which had stained her own dress.

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka.” Padmé hardly managed to whisper, for as much as Anakin was a disease to her, he was a father to Ahsoka.

“No…” Ahsoka said. Her lekku trashed in confusion and agony, “No.”

“He had turned to the Dark Side, Ahsoka. _He_ killed the younglings at the Temple.” Ahsoka’s head waggled erratically back and forth.

“I don’t believe you. That’s not my Master. He would never. He can’t be-” Padmé attempted to step closer, but Ahsoka took a step back, hyperventilating and unable to look Padmé in the eye.

“He’s dead, Ahsoka. I had to.” Ahsoka looked up, finally, and Padmé finally registered the horror in her eyes, the betrayal. Ahsoka collapsed to her knees, then; she yanked wildly at the small bloodstains on her top, the blood just wet enough to tint her fingers. Ahsoka punctuated each yank with a cry of frustration, trying to purge herself of guilt (Padmé felt it too: _If only I had stayed. If only I had payed more attention_ ) and trying to get rid of the most conclusive evidence she would get that night that the man she might have considered a _father_ , a _brother_ had died.

Padmé’s head pounded with guilt - not for Ani’s death ( _Never that, I did what I had to_ ) - but for causing Ahsoka pain.

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka. I’m sorry.” She tried to get closer, to cradle the child, but Ahsoka simply shrieked and scrambled away. Padmé sat heavily down; she had no one now, not Ahsoka, not Obi-Wan, no one in the galaxy would ever love the murderer of the Hero With No Fear. Then a sudden weight upon her shoulders. Sabé, Padmé remembered suddenly. Sabé was here. Sabé would not leave her. Padmé rested her cheek on the supporting hands and they lead her to bed.

“Don’t leave.” Were the last words she could remember saying that night before succumbing to sleep, the warm body of her closest companion curled next to her.

////

Ahsoka remained distant, confused, but thankfully not angry or fearful. She would, in time, come to accept Padmé’s decision, but never quite forgave her - not for killing Anakin without giving him the chance to redeem himself.

Sabé took charge of Padmé’s medical care. Palpatine’s boogeyman might have been slain, but he was still Emperor and Padmé was still on the run, a wanted criminal (Ahsoka had some expertise to lend in that area). Sabé had thus confined Padmé to bed rest.

“What will you name the child?” She asked, one day, Padmé’s head in her lap.

“Anakin and I discussed this. Luke if it is a boy, Leia if it’s a girl. Oh, how Anakin wanted a daughter.” Padmé blinked away tears, her child would never know its father; Sabé made quiet sounds of consolation stroked Padmé’s cheeks free of tears.

She would stay with Padmé every night, and every night, Padmé lay awake wondering just what the other woman was thinking.

////

Ahsoka left again and the remaining two women settled into a routine, a mundane and (dare she think it) a domestic one. While Sabé cooked, Padmé would assist, and when Padmé would watch the news holos, Sabé would pry the screen away from Padmé with gentle reprimands. Maybe it was how long they’d known each other, maybe Padmé had just loved _her_ all along, but it was almost as if nothing had to be said - that one day she woke up and they just suddenly _were_. Either way, Padmé knew the shadow of the Empire could never touch the little light that lay between them every night.

**Author's Note:**

> Would you believe I wrote this whole fic around the word "paroxysm"?
> 
> Also, about the title? 100 by the Hunna??? Would 10/10 recommend.
> 
> Anyways, thanks to all who review or leave kudos, you're the best!  
> Much love to thedorkyastra, and thanks to Edith, my good friend, my buddy, my homie.  
> Constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
